Delta Force (12 page)

SIXTEEN

THAT EVENING, AFTER
digging out all my old papers and rereading them, I wrote another fact paper on the 22 SAS Regiment.

After showing it to my immediate boss, Col. Dave Presson—I owed him that courtesy—I walked it over to General Kingston. Because “Shy” Meyer and Kingston are good friends, it was natural for Bob to take it to him. Lt. Gen. Edward C. Meyer, who was then the Army's Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations and Plans, was considered to be the smartest man in uniform in Washington.

On his return to Bragg, General Bob told me he'd had some conversation in the Pentagon about the formation of a unit that could operate along SAS lines. He thought, maybe, somewhere down the road, the Army would get serious about it. Since this was nothing new, I didn't think a lot more about it. But Kingston did. Whenever he entertained a visitor, especially if it was someone with clout, he never hesitated bringing up the SAS and their successes.

The subject began to take on a life of its own.

Then, in late August 1976 General Kingston was asked to attend a conference chaired by Bill DePuy at the Army Infantry School at Fort Benning. The object of this meeting was to examine the role of the light infantry division and Kingston was tasked to explain what Special Forces could do in support of conventional forces on the tactical battlefield. General Kingston requested I accompany him and Colonel Henry.

The VIP conference room in Building Four at Fort Benning is typical. A large round walnut conference table takes up most of the space and is surrounded by large overstuffed swivel chairs. These are for the general officers. The action officers who occupy the other half of the room sit in less comfortable straight-back chairs. Two screens hang on one wall and there's a lectern, complete with carefully mounted switches and buttons controlling the 35mm slide projectors, in the front of the room. Briefers normally receive a quick lesson on what the many switches control. It would be unfortunate for some colonel to change a slide in the middle of his performance when all he wanted to do was adjust the PA sound. On three walls hang prints and paintings of American infantrymen in combat—Gettysburg and Shiloh, St. Mihiel and Belleau Wood, Anzio and the Bulge. This is a very comfortable room to be in.

The conference appeared to be another straightforward capabilities brief. Several presentations were made before it was General Kingston's turn. When he was through, General DePuy began a general discussion.

“You know, Bob, you didn't articulate your position as well as I thought you would. What you said, however, I agree with. You used the term ‘indigenous forces' several times. Thirteen times to be exact. Special Forces is responsible for the training of these people, whether they be on our side of the lines or on the enemy's side, and we need it to do that job.” He went on a little while longer elaborating on this idea. Then he leaned back. He looked around the room. “How come we don't have a unit like the British Special Air Service?” I almost fell out of my chair.

“Those people went into Indonesia through Borneo and conducted operations which were so successful the Indonesians were too embarrassed to take it to the United Nations.” This referred to an attempt by Sukarno to liberate the Sultanate of Brunei, one of the three British dependencies in Borneo, through the use of Indonesian-supported terrorists. SAS squadrons had operated very successfully against their bases, which were located well within the borders of Indonesia.

Bill DePuy continued. “The Brits did very well in that operation and they did it with very little fanfare. Why can't we do those kinds of things in our Army? Where is the force which will do that? We have never been able to do special operations well. Special Forces—yes, they teach and train, but we've never really been able to do special operations very well. We didn't do them well in Korea. We didn't do them well in Vietnam and I'm concerned about it. Maybe what we really need to do is carefully examine the British SAS model, see how they do it, and then organize a similar American Army unit.”

I sat there ready to burst, thinking, God, I'd like to hug this beautiful general. He's got it all in one sack.

Lunchtime arrived.

In the hall I spoke to an old friend, “Shali” Shalikashvilli, the Director of Instruction at the Infantry School. General DePuy joined us and complimented Shali on his Long Range Patrol Company presentation, which had been delivered earlier in the morning. After some small talk, Shali changed the subject. “General, back at Bragg, in 1962, Charlie here wrote a paper proposing that we create and organize an SAS capability in our Army. He's been beating that drum ever since.” General DePuy answered. “Someone ought to have been listening to him.”

During lunch I was like a string going to snap. I told myself, This is going too smoothly; something's got to happen. After lunch I wasn't sure where the morning discussion was going to lead. DePuy, in his own smooth articulate style, began where he'd left off an hour before. The results were the same as in the morning. Everyone agreed the Army needed an SAS capability.

“All right, Bob,” General DePuy swiveled to look at my boss, “go back to Bragg and develop a proposal on how we can accomplish this. We have to take this all the way up to the Chief, and it won't be easy. When you and your people have it in a manageable form let me know and I'll review it. I don't want to go to Washington and fail with this.”

At this point I was so damn excited I couldn't believe it.
When we were alone Kingston and I hugged each other. During the plane ride back to Fayetteville. General Bob talked about how he wanted the task organized. “Charlie, you're the prime guy; you know all about the SAS, but I want Tom to help you.” Tom was Col. Tom Henry, who ran Combat Developments for Kingston. “Because you still have to run the school, you'll not have sufficient time to devote to this project. Since doctrine belongs to Combat Developments, the action really belongs there. I'm going to get Tom to help you.”

Henry had been the ops officer in 'Nam for the 5th Special Forces Group and I had a lot of time for him. He was anxious to work on the project and in this he proved to be unusual. Most people at Bragg, when they heard what we were working on, felt we were wasting our time. “It's too new,” they said. “It'll get watered down!”

All through September and October, despite these dour predictions, Tom Henry and I worked scores of hours getting the proposal to stand on its own. We were very, very thorough. Every conceptual point was clearly stated. Tom had his concerns, though. If you asked him about this period he'd tell you, “The biggest problem I had was translating Charlie's British jargon into American. I couldn't use ‘bloke' or ‘the lads' or ‘bloody' or ‘bonnie.' ‘Bergens' had to be ‘rucksacks,' ‘lorries' had to be ‘trucks.'” Tom recognized the problem of overselling the Brits. The idea had come from them, but now it had to be all American. The proposal needed to be carefully developed and sold without overdoing the SAS. We defined the problems and created the solutions—at night, on weekends.

When Kingston thought everyone was ready he made the call, and in mid-November we went up to Fort Monroe, Virginia, to brief General DePuy and key members of his staff, including his deputy, Lt. Gen. Frank Camm. The briefing room in this historic post is smaller and less elaborate than the one at Benning. The brief itself was very formal. General DePuy gave it his total concentration.

He was not enthusiastic. A wise old bird, he knew better than most how the Army worked. “There's something here I
don't like. I want you to change specific areas of the brief and, more important, I want you to credit all the other services. Talk about how the Special Forces train indigenous people and do it better than anyone else. Describe how the Rangers excel in special-purpose raids and how the Marines conduct amphibious operations. Point out what the Navy SEALS do, and the Airborne, and the Infantry. Give everyone equal credit. Then show that amidst all this expertise and excellence there exists a void, a task that cannot be done by any one of them, or combination of them. Then introduce the proposed SAS unit. Bob, you've some more work to do.”

He repeated what he'd said at Benning: “I don't want to lose when we go to Washington. We're going to get their attention only once and once has to be enough. If we fail to get it, the idea is finished. The Chief and the people around him are going to have to be convinced. I'm afraid it's not going to be an easy job.”

Back at Bragg the changes were put in and the fixes made. The briefing was restructured as General DePuy had directed. Toward the end of January 1977, we went back to General DePuy, and this time, for extra clout, I convinced General Kingston that he should deliver the brief. General DePuy sat silently a few minutes. Henry and I were sweating. Then he began to talk to the points he had scribbled on his yellow notepad. Further changes were to be made. We were surprised to hear that some of the areas, things we had fixed specifically on DePuy's November instructions, had to be changed again. Much of what we had done, structure and comparisons in particular, had been done exactly as General DePuy had requested. We knew this because we had taped, with permission, the previous briefing. He directed that they be changed again.

“I want to point out to the others who will have to hear this brief the critical tasks that members of this unit will have to perform: for example, freeing hostages in buildings or on hijacked aircraft; being able to operate with a low visibility and, if necessary, to dress in civilian clothes or in disguises. Put all that in. Once you have outlined the tasks, the void will appear
by itself. Even the most obtuse staff officer will be able to see the obvious.”

We were told to go back to the drawing board and do some more work. What he wanted done was again very clearly stated. I really wasn't that sure what the hell was going on. Obviously, between the November and January briefings the political winds had shifted slightly and DePuy had adjusted to them.

The Joint Chiefs of Staff is composed of a chairman, appointed by the President, and four chiefs who represent the Army, Navy, Marines, and Air Force. Created in 1942, the JCS is the primary military committee responsible for the armed forces. It is the military interface with the Congress. It integrates strategic plans.

It was possible that petty concerns, special interests, and internecine battles—nurtured not necessarily by the Chiefs but within the process itself—could kill this new unit's chances for approval. The proposal could easily be short-circuited by people having nothing at all to do with the counterterrorist concept itself.

General DePuy, therefore, had the unenviable and difficult task of surgically maneuvering the proposal through some rough country. For the small team working on the proposal at the JFK Center, it meant more work needed to be done. Both Majors Odorizzi and Buckshot (pseudonym) had been assigned to the Special Forces School and, shot through with enthusiasm, they became part of the new organization and were models for the type of men I was looking for.

Chuck Odorizzi had been my communications officer in 'Nam with Project DELTA. He was a real achiever and loyal. A Texan, he was a no-nonsense type of officer who was also good with a pencil. Another southerner, from Virginia tidewater county, Buckshot, had he a smaller nose, could have passed for Robert Redford. Quickwitted and daring, he could be trusted with your life. I trusted him with mine. Buckshot had just departed for the U.K. to undertake the SAS selection course; and I awaited his return to the JFK Center with some eagerness.

The winter squalls never affected our enthusiasm. Kingston led the bandwagon. “You know, Charlie, we're going to eventually get this proposal approved.” His exuberance was contagious.

Then, from a totally unexpected source, we received some additional help. On a flight back from the Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, DePuy's deputy, General Camm, had an inspired idea. “What we need to sell this idea,” I'm told he said to DePuy, “is a real bright officer off our own Training and Doctrine Command staff. He doesn't have to know a thing about Special Operations, but he has to be able to articulate their ideas. We need a salesman, a professional talker. Kingston and Beckwith will teach him everything he needs to know.”